


And Make Me Blind So I Can Never Look Back

by afteriwake



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angry Sherlock, Angst, Dead Molly, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Heavy Angst, POV Sherlock Holmes, Past Character Death, Past Sherlock Holmes/Molly Hooper, Revenge, Sherlock Angst, Sherlock Holmes Has Feelings, Sherlock Is Not Okay, Sherlock is Alone, Sherlock is a Mess, Sherlock-centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-04
Updated: 2016-05-04
Packaged: 2018-06-06 09:22:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6748132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afteriwake/pseuds/afteriwake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock tries to grieve for his wife before he gets revenge for her murder.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And Make Me Blind So I Can Never Look Back

**Author's Note:**

  * For [vonPeeps](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vonPeeps/gifts).



> So this fic has a few influences. It was primarily inspired by a fanfic ask meme prompt by **vonPeeps** , who asked for a Sherlolly fic that included " _things you said when we were the happiest we ever were_ ," which for some reason made me think of angst. I was stuck on this, and then last night I watched a movie and there was a cover of a song by Neil Young, "Only Love Can Break Your Heart," and I was struck by that line and the chorus, and then it inspired this fic. The title of the fic comes from the song "Night Sky" by CVRCHES.

  
but only love can break your heart   
try to be sure right from the start   
yes only love can break your heart   
what if your world should fall apart?   
_"Only Love Can Break Your Heart," Neil Young_   


He felt empty.

He didn’t even feel like half of him was gone. He felt like all of him was gone, or at least the best parts of him. She had always been the best of him. Not always, of course. He hadn’t known her since birth. But since he had met her….no, since he had been smart enough to realize that she was important, that she was better than him, far better than the world deserved…

So, of course, she was taken away.

She had been too good for the world so she hadn’t been allowed to stay.

He hadn’t been allowed to keep hold of her.

He drifted through their home, the space they had shared for years but what had felt for too short a time. If he had been smarter it could have been far longer. If he had been smarter, if he had been as smart as everyone credited him with being, he would have seen her for how special and beautiful and precious she was earlier. He would have realized how important and wonderful she was. He would have realized how much she truly meant.

How much she would mean to him.

Ghosts of conversations washed over him as he moved through the rooms. Whispered “I love yous” in the sitting room from under makeshift blanket forts, something he’d have brushed off as childish but not when she would pull him close in the fort, kiss his neck, cuddle against him eventually when they fell asleep as the blankets and pillows collapsed on top of them from their vigorous lovemaking inside. Loving admonishments not to distract her from the baking or he’d ruin yet another baking sheet, with protestations that he did t on purpose and then soft murmurs that he was a rotten rotten man and he had precisely ten minutes before the next batch of biscuits had to come out of the oven. Teasing that he smelled ripe and should join her for a quick shower, and shrieks and giggles when he did just that which soon became sensual moans when he began showing her just how good it was to let someone else help you get clean.

The bedroom, though...he couldn’t go into that room. He knew that the crime scene clean-up team had done their job thoroughly and it would never look like there had been anything wrong. And he knew, eventually, he would need to go in there, collect the things that meant the most to him, but he just couldn’t. That was where she had been laid out, a gruesome reminder that his enemies could snatch anyone, anywhere. That no one he cared for was _truly_ safe. The only thing he was thankful for was that his mother had their daughter. If Emma had been here with her mum, if he’d lost both of them, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to bear it. That was the only thing that was keeping him going. He knew Molly would be so upset if he gave up and left their daughter all alone.

He rested his head against the bedroom door, trying to keep the gruesome images at bay, but they flashed through his mind in horribly vivid detail. After a moment he pounded his fist on the door and pulled away, searching for something, _anything_ to make them go away. He shouldn’t have come back here. He should have stayed away. He wasn’t ready. He would never be ready. He would never be fully ready to acknowledge the sheer magnitude of what had been taken from him. Yes, he still had his daughter, and he should be thankful for that, but his Molly, his light...she was gone. She was gone and she would never come back, and his world was all the less for that.

Then his eyes fell on the picture in the hall. Molly had wanted it there, outside Emma’s bedroom, so that any time she was sitting in the rocking chair rocking her and the door was open she could see it. It wasn’t the best picture of the two of them, she had said, but it was her favorite. It had been taken by her friend Meena at their wedding, and it showed Molly leaning against him, with his arms around her, a wide smile on his face. He never smiled, not until her. And he had doubted he would ever smile again now that she was gone. He didn’t want to smile. He didn’t want to look back at what he had with her. It was too painful right now, and he needed to steel himself to do things his lovely wife would not approve of. He needed his revenge.

He went to the picture and picked it up, flipping it around and opening up the back of the picture frame. He slipped the picture out of the frame and then slipped it into his coat pocket. This would be his one reminder of good times until his task was done. This would be the one thing he kept with him to remind him he’d had a good life, he’d had the love of a good woman. When this was all over, if he could come back from all of this with some semblance f his humanity left, then he would move forward. But for now, he needed to be blind to all of that. He needed to be the human robot he had used to be, to turn off the emotions he had gained, and he needed to put it all behind him.

Because there were people who had taken the light out of his life, and he needed to make sure they were left with the same darkness he was left with. It was only fair and just, after all.


End file.
